


Stalling

by Sunshine170



Category: Fringe
Genre: Whump Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshine170/pseuds/Sunshine170
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He may be getting the crap kicked out him...but let it never be said he lost his sense of humor. Tumblr request from long ago for some meaningless Peter whump.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stalling

He sees stars.

Pretty ones too…

His vision swims, the world looks like an aftermath of a supernova…. lights brighter, out of focus, they dance in an uneven cadence, double lines tracing the two men who stand over him. One of them holds him roughly by the hair, while the other deals the blows.

Another well aimed sucker punch to his jaw and he coughs blood…

“Shit…”  He swears as he sputters, he spits red, blood dribbling down his chin to his shirt.  A tooth dangles precariously somewhere along his gum line.  

“You got my shirt all messed up.”

_“No Dental.”_  

He remembers a conversation from ages ago and coughs again.  The words ring in his ears.

_Hurry up Liv…_ he thinks to himself, not relishing the thought of having a fake tooth fitted in at the age of 36. 

“If you’re going to hit me, do you think you could avoid the face?” He gives goon number two a shitty grin.  “My wife is very attached to it. Pretty sure she married me for my looks.”

 “Yeah?”

That earns him another blow, to the stomach this time, the well-aimed jamming of a hard knee to abdominal muscle.

He almost keels over from the force but goon number one continues to hold him , so in effect he’s bow kneed and dangling, never a pretty sight in general but less so when you’re six feet two tall.

_Damn that hurts_ , Peter grunts through the pain, before nodding.

“That’s better. Much better. You’ve got good moves. What do you do… Krav Maga, Jujutsu? I was going to sign my daughter up for some classes. What do you recommend?”

“Do you think you can shut up?” The other man sighs, ramming him to the wall, where Peter slumps in a boneless heap.  “Jesus you talk too much.”  He’s pulling out a gun, aiming at him, before hitting his head with the back of the weapon in a swift move, drawing blood.

In the background sirens can be heard, the unmistakable sounds of a SWAT team in progress.

His vision dims, he’s fairly sure he’s going to lose consciousness.

“You know you’re going to wish you hadn’t done that. My wife is not going to be happy about this at all."

He mumbles, his eyes already closing.  

He hears Olivia’s voice far away somewhere.

"She loves this shirt.”

Peter passes out. 


End file.
